


I'll Be On My Way Home

by Marbles123



Category: (500) Days of Summer (2009), Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Domestic, Heterosexual relationships, M/M, Some Fluff, if they had kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marbles123/pseuds/Marbles123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>All his life, Noah William Eames had wanted to be just like his father. </i>
</p>
<p>It's not easy being the son of an international criminal and a basket case, even worse when there's trouble in the marriage. The story in which Eames is married to Tom and they have a son Noah. </p>
<p>This is a terrible summary, apologies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be On My Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my second fic. It came out of nowhere after I did a meme on tumblr that had people put a random pairing in your ask box and you had to create a child for them. It all started out so fun and then turned into this long ass 13k fic. I blame Rachel!! It's angsty but it's a nice ending.

All his life, Noah William Eames had wanted to be just like his father. 

As a small boy his Papa seemed to fill the room. Wherever he went he was the center of attention, instantly the envy of everyone around him but too charming to be hated. Noah would watch in wonder as Eames floated about the room during their dinner parties schmoozing the pants off of everyone, sometimes literally. That part he wouldn’t find out until later. It explained some of the hushed angry fights he’d heard which usually resulted in his Dad smashing plates. Having two artistic dreamers as parents could be trying on the steadiest of personalities and Noah was just a small boy trying to navigate the mood swings.

Tom was a gentle if not confused soul. Noah never understood how they ended up together. They seemed like oil and water, only able to blend when in a flurry of violent movement. The metaphor said things about their sex life he never cared to ponder too closely. Overhearing the occasional thumps and moans through walls was more than enough material for his future therapist. 

His father Tom, Dad as he called him, was the straightforward one, dependable, always around when Noah needed him. Tom had taken on the task of being the responsible parent. Someone had to and Eames was too free spirited to ever work a nine to five and drive a mini-van. Tom dreamed just as big, he just wasn’t as bold to flaunt it like Papa did. He worked hard to support them, like the accountant on a cruise ship. He kept the fun flowing and Eames got to be the charming host, or so that’s how Noah always saw it.

*~*~*~*~*

When Noah was just five he could remember going to the park with his Papa and Daddy. It was a hot, dry day with a cool breeze and the greenest grass Noah had ever seen. He’d spent hours rolling around in it wrestling with Papa. Dad had warned him against stains until Papa put a stop to it with a kiss and one of his magic smiles. When they tired of roughhousing he and Papa laid on their backs staring up at the clouds pointing out shapes.

“That one’s a pony.” Noah said pointing up with his little finger. Eames chuckled in agreement pointing to another one. 

“I think that’s a bunny.”

“That’s no bunny, Papa,” he said with gusto, “it’s a piggy!”

“Ah, no wonder you recognize it then.” He leaned over and snorted in Noah’s ear, tickling him. “My little sweetie hog.” Noah giggled loudly, enjoying the attention. Eames stopped and lay back pointing up. “What about that one?”

Noah scrunched up his face and shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“It looks a bit like a sniper rifle, dunnit?”

“What’s that, Papa?” 

Eames seemed to realize his mistake. Noah could remember the visible cringe and the rapid change of subject. “Oh, nothing, lovely—look that’s a chicken, I’m sure of it.”

It had been one of the many moments that stuck in his mind. Even being so little he knew his family wasn’t normal. It wasn’t that he had two dads. A lot of the other kids in his class didn’t have a “traditional family” with a mommy and a daddy. He knew they were different because none of the other kids had a Papa that disappeared for great lengths of time with no explanation. 

Even the other kids that had parents in business that required travel it wasn’t the same. Papa would be gone at the drop of a hat. Other kids’ parents knew exactly when and where they were going. It made him wonder if Papa loved him as much as he said. 

It was years before he figured out it wasn’t just work he was competing with.

*~*~*~*~*

“Papa’s an actor, bud. That’s why he has to travel so much he’s going on jobs. You know that.”

“Why can’t I go with him?”

“You’ve got school. Education comes first in this house.”

Noah narrowed his eyes and shook his head, frustrated. “But it’s summer holidays.” 

Tom stopped stirring the soup and weathered his lip. Noah could see the gears working in his head. He had nothing, Noah knew by now that his parents weren’t infallible gods with every answer. Thirteen had been a revolutionary year for him. 

“Vacation, Noah, in the states they call it vacation not holidays.”

In his desire to be like Papa he often mimicked his accent, getting laughs from his school mates and a few flirty looks from girls, but that wasn’t why he did it. Maybe if he could be just a bit more like Papa he could get him to stay. Papa always seemed to get what he wanted just by being himself. If Noah could mimic that then, in his mind, it made sense papa would stay. Noah could be all the audience Eames needed. Dad certainly wasn’t doing enough to keep him around.

“In the states they don’t call it ‘the states.’” He pointed out petulantly, falling into Eames’s accent. Tom sighed, looking at Noah as if he didn’t know what he was talking about, as if he was just some dumb kid that didn’t know what was going on. It pissed him off. “Does he “flirt” on his jobs as much as he does here?” 

“You shut your mouth.” Tom snapped pointing at him with the spoon he’d been using to stir. “That’s our business. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Noah couldn’t stop despite seeing how much he was hurting him. “It _is_ my business! Maybe if you kept him happy he wouldn’t leave us all the time! It’s your fault, Dad!” 

Tom stared at him in a state of shock. Noah felt his stomach twisting in knots as he watched his Dad’s eyes turn bloodshot and then swell up with tears. Tom rubbed at his nose and then turned back to the soup on the stove. 

“…This needs about another half hour, um, maybe you should go.” 

“Go where?”

“I don’t care. You’re being a real brat right now.”

Noah swallowed his rage, regret refluxing up his throat like acid. “I’m sorry.”

Tom kept his back to him, shrugging his shoulders. “Isn’t there an episode of Dr. Who you’ve not seen five times already, why don’t you go watch that? Practice your accent.”

Noah hadn’t said anything else. They ate dinner separately that night. Despite apologizing, years later he still felt regret over that. He didn’t understand that his parents were two very flawed individuals, that it wasn’t all Tom or all Eames, it was their combined sum. 

Tom could be needy and obsessive while Eames was a wanderer that was used to doing as he pleased, not concerned with anyone else’s feelings, not even Noah’s. They were drawn to each other, like sailors to sirens, with comparative results. Eames needed an audience and Tom needed someone on a pedestal to admire. When they were good they were so good and when they were bad, they destroyed Noah’s world.

*~*~*~*~*

The thing he loved most about his parents was how affectionate they were towards each other when they thought no one was looking. He could remember one Christmas Eve when he was eight. He was on a mission to prove Santa Claus was a myth despite Eames’s insistence he was real. Papa always wanted to preserve his fantasies as long as possible. Dad on the other hand, thought it was cruel to perpetuate the lie.

Noah had set up an entire fake court with Papa on the stand as the defendant. Papa hadn’t cracked more than an amused smile under cross examination but that did not deter Noah. During his closing arguments of Santa being a big bag of lies utilized by parents to manipulate good behavior, Tom had been far too quiet which tipped Noah off. He had a good nose for bullshit. 

As he expected there was no Santa, but he still found something unexpected. His dads were wrapped around each other by the tree swaying to Silent Night. Eames brought their threaded fingers up to his plush lips and kissed them, staring into Tom’s eyes. Tom rewarded the gesture with his dimpled smile before leaning up to kiss him. 

“I love you, baby.” Tom had said when they parted, hand resting at the base of Eames’s neck, stroking his hair. “I still can’t believe you married me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling. You’re perfect in my eyes.”

“I’m glad you’re home this year.” Tom had added, resting his head on Eames’s shoulder. “I hate when you go away.”

“It’ll be less now that we’ve got Noah.”

Tom snorted, “We’ve had him for eight years.”

“Yes, but he’s getting older now. He can start asking questions. He had me sweating up on that stand. I never sweat and I’ve been interrogated plenty.” He laughed at thought, shaking his head. 

“Our boy’s a genius. He’s always asked questions, you just weren’t there to hear them.” Tom said, passive aggressive as always. 

Eames had frowned, a very deep one that affected his entire body. Noah had held his breath trying to hear everything said. Eames had whispered something into Tom’s ear and then kissed his temple. His face had been obscured by Tom’s head but when he came into view again he had tears in his eyes. Noah had resisted the urge to run up and comfort his Papa. Dad took care of it anyway, cupping Eames’s face and kissing him sweetly. 

“Never,” Tom had said when they parted.

*~*~*~*~*

It wasn’t always sweet though. Noah hated those moments the most.

“How can you go now? It’s our fucking anniversary! You said you weren’t going to work as much anymore!” Tom shouted across the kitchen, throwing the dish rag down. “And you’re just mentioning it _now_ , really nice, Patrick!”

“It’s not like I pick when the jobs happen, do I? It’s too good to pass up. You can’t tell me we couldn’t use the extra money!” 

“Fuck you, we’re doing just fine!” 

“We could put it towards a holiday fund then.” 

“I want my husband to be home on our anniversary I don’t fucking want extra money for a vacation we’ll never take!” 

“Don’t talk like that, darling, I always keep my promises.”

Tom laughed harshly, cleaning the counter with swift, jerky thrusts of his arm. He muttered to himself under his breath then stopped his movement and looked up. “Who’s working the job?”

Eames had flustered, Noah remembered it because Papa only ever lost his smooth calculated air around Daddy. Nothing else fazed him. “Oh, um, well you know, the usual lot.”

Tom narrowed his eyes and hummed in his throat, tongue poking into his cheek. “Ah, so that means Arthur, doesn’t it?” 

Eames scoffed, trying to dismiss it. “Tom, don’t, you know how upset you get. You see things that aren’t there.”

“Bullshit! Don’t make this out to be me being crazy! You’re giving up our fucking _anniversary_ to work with _him_?” He teared up, swallowing audibly, “Am I not _enough_ for you?”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tom. I’m sacrificing our anniversary to work so we have a cushion for our family. I want Noah to go to whatever university he wants. I want you to be able to take a bloody holiday once in a while. You work at that firm so much you might as well sleep there.” 

“Well one of us has to live in the real world. We can’t all go around chasing dreams. Go wander around Paris with Arthur, I’m sure he even speaks French and smokes and all that happy horseshit.” 

“You’re impossible!”

“You’re an asshole!”

Eames had straightened then, clenching his fists at his sides. He ran a hand through his hair and then stormed to the hall closet to grab his jacket. “I’ll be at the pub.”

“It’s called a bar, asshole!” 

“Sod you!” Eames sneered. 

The slam of the door had been so loud it echoed in Noah’s soul, shook his bones. He thought Papa was never coming back that night. He’d blamed Tom. Daddy should have been making Papa happy not shouting at him and making him upset. Papa was already around so little, why would he come home at all if it was unpleasant? He should have hated Papa just as much for leaving, but he didn’t. Papa was like the sun and he was just a little weed desperate to be in its warmth. 

When Eames came back the next morning Noah was so happy he’d cried all through breakfast, neither of his father’s understanding why.

*~*~*~*~*

The long absences never changed. He remembered one particularly long one when he was ten. It had been agony and Dad wouldn’t tell him why.

“Something went wrong on Papa’s acting job and he has to stay away for a little while.” Dad had said. “He’ll be back when he can.” 

Noah had nodded that he understood but he didn’t. What could have gone so wrong that he refused to come home? Noah knew enough about acting to know it wasn’t a dangerous job. His papa wasn’t famous. He’d checked all the celebrity sites in his desperation to track his movements. It must have been that they weren’t worth his time. There was something wrong with him.

Later that night he sat in his room, listening to the slow steady thump of his father bouncing a tennis ball off the floor repeatedly and knew he was right. Dad was in a mood again because Papa was gone. He would be an emotional mess until he got back and Noah would have to take care of him. He resented his Dad so much for being so weak. Eames always had the blessing of being yearned for hence all his faults were immediately forgiven. 

Tom was constant. A constant steady emotional mess, but he was there to cook and help with homework and take Noah to the park. He didn’t sleep much when Eames was gone and he’d spend long hours lying on his bed or on the living room sofa, staring off into space or crying when he thought Noah wasn’t around. 

Noah secretly hated him for it. Tom was so average, so plain. How could he ever hope to keep someone as worldly as Papa enthralled? Noah had vowed he would never be average or plain.

*~*~*~*~*

“Look, Pop,” Noah burst into the living room where Eames was quietly watching the news. He had only been back for a couple days. “I got all A’s!” He held up his report card with pride. “And even better Mrs. Ludwick liked my poem so much she’s putting it in the poetry club’s pamphlet. It’s nothing major, but they put it out every semester.” Eames had smiled so wide at him it made his heart soar.

“That’s brilliant, darling! I’m so proud of you. I was never a good student. Maths and spelling never quite clicked. I was more interested in drama anyway.”

“That’s how you got into acting?” Noah asked, curling up next to him. Papa’s stories were the best. 

“I suppose you could say that. It all happened so fast, really.”

“Was grandpa proud of you?”

Noah would never forget the look he got for that remark. It was so quick that most people would have missed it, but he saw it. Papa’s face fell and he pressed his lips together before quickly shaking it off. 

“No.” Eames said softly. Noah made to ask more questions, but Eames preempted him, his smile back again. “I’m so proud of you, Noah. You’re so much smarter than I ever could have hoped to be. You’re going to have a lot of opportunities in life.”

“You’re smart too. Dad says you’re brilliant at what you do.”

Eames had laughed. “Smart and talented aren’t always interchangeable, lovely.” He looked to the news going quiet as they talked about some diplomat’s sudden change of heart. “But it can work out just as well.” He looked back to Noah. “I’m going to make sure you can afford to go to the top universities.”

*~*~*~*~*

“How do you do it?” Noah asked. He was sitting at the kitchen counter watching Eames whip up his almost famous pasta salad. It was their annual summer barbeque. Noah was sixteen and like so many boys that age, he thought mostly of girls.

“Do what?”

“Be so confident and pretend to be someone else without feeling stupid.” 

Eames snorted. “Are we talking on stage or in real life?” 

Noah paused, shrugged. “Both?”

“What’s her name?”

“Candice.” 

“Candice and Noah, I like the sound of that.” 

“Button it, she’s just a mate.” 

“Mates can become lovers.”

“Oh, _geez_ , don’t say that!”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not interested in her?”

Noah blushed beat red. “No! I mean, well, yeah, but still! I don’t want to hear my father say the word _lover_ , like, ever.”

“I’m not celibate, Noah, I hate to burst your bubble. I’ve been trying to make you a sibling for years, but it just won’t take. I think Daddy’s sterile.” He teased enjoying the disgusted look on Noah’s face.

“ _Stop_!” Noah threw a balled up napkin at him making him laugh. “I just want to be able to talk to her, but I’m so damn awkward and introverted. I really hate it.”

“You’re like your father is all. He can be quite shy, and he wasn’t that experienced with blokes when I met him so he was very insecure. In my business there are a lot of overconfident wankers so keen on themselves. Tom’s the exact opposite. I found it so terribly endearing I asked him out on the spot. So you see, sometimes it works for you.”

“But I don’t want to be like him.” Noah scoffed. 

Eames lifted his head to look at him, cross. “Why ever not?” 

“Because he’s average,” Noah admitted, tucking his fists into the sleeves of his hoodie. It didn’t matter that it was hot out he was still wearing one. “He’s boring.”

Eames, put down the knife he was using to chop and wet his lips. “Your father works hard every day to provide you with a cushy existence. He loves you despite all your moodies and he supports all your interests. Trust me, you’re very lucky to have him in your life and you’d be a damned good person if you ended up as half the man he is.” He shook his head and went back to chopping. “I don’t want to hear you talking about him like that again. He adores you.”

“Yeah, he’s so great then why are you always leaving?” 

It had slipped out before he could stop it. He was as shocked as Eames. Noah never talked back to him. Noah gave Tom hell, but he never said anything to Eames. Eames made a noise of amusement in his throat, scoffing a bit, and then turned his attention back to the chopping.

“It’s complicated.” 

“That’s it?” 

Eames laughed to himself and nodded. “That’s life I’m afraid. As a child it’s a riddle to be solved, as a teenager it’s an emotion to be filled and as an adult it’s simply _complicated_.” 

Noah stared at him a long moment unsure if he was staring at a mage or a madman. Papa always had him feeling so terribly inadequate. Noah wanted to be able to crack the code that was his father. He wanted Eames to teach him all the secrets to the universe he’d learned on his travels, but he hardly had a moment with him. 

“So tell me about Candice.” Eames broke the silence, his usual warm expression back in place. Noah broke out of his stupor and wiped at his eyes. 

“Oh, um, yeah she’s… so different.”

Eames smiled softly. “Of course she is.”

*~*~*~*~*

Noah, now seventeen, peaked out from behind the curtains of the stage. He could see his parents just settling into their seats. His stomach was doing summersaults and he wasn’t sure if he had to vomit, pass out or take a massive shit. It was most inconvenient as he was about to go on stage in less than ten. A hand was on his shoulder and he looked over to see Candice.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s high school, not Broadway.”

“I don’t care about them.” He said, shrugging her hand off and taking another peak. She followed his eyes.

“You know they’ll love it. All parents say you did great even if you suck.” 

“I don’t want that, I want…” He fell off, sighing. “I just want to do well.” 

The lights in the house dimmed and they were called to their places. Noah rushed to his mark, getting into character. Eames had coached him rigorously about it. It had been the best four weeks of his life. He soaked up everything Eames had told him, completely emerged in the lessons. Of course now he was shitting himself at the thought of performing. The curtains started to part and he took a breath.

“Here goes nothing.”

*~*~*~*~*

Noah emerged from backstage, makeup washed off and dressed in his street clothes. He was rubbing his hands together, shoulders hunched as he caught sight of his parents. They hadn’t noticed him yet so he watched them. His heart was pounding in his chest as he observed, Eames turned so he could see his face. Noah almost burst into tears. His fathers were talking to each other, very animated, Eames clearly pleased by what he saw along with Tom.

“There he is there’s my Brando!” Eames cheered coming up to him. Noah hadn’t even realized they’d seen him. Eames scooped him up into a hug, crushing him. Tom was behind them, dimples on display, but more reserved with his affections.

“You were amazing, Noah, I’d never have the balls to do that.” Tom said, trying to hide that he was choked up. Noah hugged Eames back, beaming. 

“You really like it, Pop?” 

“Of course, lovely, you were spectacular. Not a moment of practice wasted. You were brilliant.” He looked over Noah’s shoulder. “Oh, is that Candice?”

Noah cringed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s her.” 

“Well introduce me.”

“No.” 

“Why not, embarrassed by your old man? I thought you were mad on her.” 

Noah saw Tom try to nudge Eames before he put his foot even further down his throat, but it was too late. Noah and Candice had dated for nearly a year and in that time Eames hadn’t met her once. It also explained his faux pas now.

“We broke up, Pop, like, two months ago.”

“…Oh, well, forget her then.” Eames fumbled to come up with something, rubbing his temple with his index finger. 

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy and all.” Noah frowned, looking down at the floor. 

“You were brilliant up there, Noah, I mean it.” Eames added, trying to lift the mood again. Noah smiled half heartedly at him and shrugged. Tom cleared his throat.

“Hey, who wants pizza? I think such a stellar performance calls for a celebration. Sound good?” Tom held out his hands, expression open. Noah looked at him, sweet, simple Tom, his Dad, the steady reliable one who always managed to say the right thing to defuse Eames’s shortcomings despite being a basket case. A wave of sympathy washed over Noah and he walked up to Tom and hugged him. “Whoa, didn’t know you liked pizza so much.” His Dad teased but he could hear the smile in his tone. 

Noah pulled away and smiled. “I don’t.”

*~*~*~*~*

“What do you mean he’s not coming to my graduation?!” Noah was red faced and screaming, “He promised me! He fucking promised me he would be back in time! I’m fucking valedictorian! I busted my ass for four fucking years and he can’t even show his face?!”

Tom, to his credit, kept a soothing tone though he was clearly upset as well. “I know, bud, he was supposed to, but things went wrong on the job.”

“Oh fuck him and his acting! He’s not bloody Brad Pitt!” Noah screamed, wiping at his eyes. “Stop lying to me, I’ve been looking online for years. None of the damn sites even know who he is. He’s not even on IMDB! I’ve never seen anything he does! The fuck is he acting in—nothing! He’s just off buggering that cunt Arthur! You two think I don’t know about him, but I do!” 

“It’s not that simple, Noah.”

“I worked so hard and he’s not coming!” Noah kicked the stool across the kitchen, “All for some stupid affair.” 

“Hey! Cut the crap and sit down!” 

His Dad was angry. Noah didn’t care, he wanted to keep fighting and shouting. He felt he deserved it. All that work to be noticed, to be important. 

“Please, sit down.” Tom sighed and ran a hand down his face. He looked so tired. “This discussion’s been a long time coming.” 

Noah gave him his full attention. “What discussion?” 

“Sit down first.” Tom motioned to the stool by the counter. Noah was still breathing heavily, rubbing at his eyes. Tom waited until he did. “Okay, look,” Tom started off, rubbing his hands together. “First of all, I’m not going to discuss Arthur with you, but you’re right. Papa’s not an actor.” 

“I knew it!”

“Well, he is in a way. He works in dream share. He’s… well, it’s not exactly legal.”

“It’s highly _illegal_ they taught us about it in sociology class. What the fuck do you mean Papa’s in dream sharing?” 

“He’s a forger and thief. He goes into people’s heads and impersonates loved ones and mistresses and he gets information out of them.” 

Noah sat stunned, sniffling loudly, his tears starting again. “So… papa’s a criminal is what you’re telling me?” 

Tom reached out for him, wanting to hug him. “It doesn’t change who he is to you.”

Noah batted his arm away. “The fuck it _doesn’t_! My whole life I’ve been idolizing a fucking criminal!” He jumped up off the stool, pacing. “Oh my _god_! How could you not tell me?” 

“We wanted to, but you were so young and then, I don’t know, you were so passionate about acting and you looked up to him so much,” Tom got choked up, clearing his throat. “I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I know I’m a disappointment with my mood swings and boring job, I wanted you to have at least one parent you were proud of.”

“But it’s all a lie!” Noah shouted. “You both lied to me my whole fucking life!” 

“I’m so sorry, bud. I don’t know what to tell you.”Tom scratched his arms and worried his lip. No one could pout quite like his Dad. It broke Noah every time, that pathetic sad face. Tom, his Dad—the non-criminal parent that had been there for every cut, bump, heartbreak, nightmare and science fair. Noah let out a long shaky sigh and sat back down.

“I don’t even like acting. I just did that so he’d take an interest.” His voice was small and broken as he stared down at his hands. “So what happened?”

“I don’t really know. He couldn’t talk long. He just let me know that he was okay, but he had to lay low for a while. That’s all I usually get. He always comes back though.”

Noah pondered his words, a gnawing feeling in his gut. He knew it would hurt but he had to ask. “Do you ever think that he’s lying to you? That he’s perfectly fine and just wants more time with Arthur?” 

Tom chewed his lip again, looking away. “Arthur… is a complicated subject.” 

“Please?” 

Tom sighed heavily and rolled his shoulders. He leaned on the counter and tapped his fingers. “They work together, more often than not he’s the reason Papa makes it back to us at all.” His voice wobbled as he spoke. 

“You hate him don’t you?”

Tom scoffed, scratching at his neck. “No, I did, for a long time I just… wanted him to die some horrible death, but then, I don’t know he’s saved Patrick’s life so many times and I can’t live without Patrick so…” he broke off, covering his mouth. He took a breath and collected himself. “I tolerate him.”

Noah glared down at the counter, grinding his jaw. “I hate him.”

“I can’t really tell you not to.” Tom laughed. Noah stayed silent, blinking out more tears only to immediately wipe them away.

“I’m supposed to go to college in the fall.”

“That won’t change. We can still afford it.” 

“I don’t even know what I want to do anymore. I don’t know who I am. I only picked that school to impress him. I’ve spent my life trying to be him and he wasn’t even real.” 

“He’s real, Noah. He’s still your papa, he just can’t go to certain countries or he’ll be arrested.” Tom joked trying to lighten the mood. “Why do you think we never go anywhere?” 

“That’s not funny. I’m having a crisis. I know you know what that feels like.” He ran his hands through his hair slowly, burying his face in his elbows. “I don’t know what to do.”

“No one does at your age. I didn’t finally get off my ass and do what I wanted until I was twenty seven. I wasted years writing greeting cards and singing bad karaoke.” 

Noah looked up at him and laughed despite his tears, “Another scandalous secret comes to life.” His father joined in the laughter, pulling him into a hug. 

“I love you, bud. I’ll always be here for you.” 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a fucking asshole.” Noah sobbed into his chest. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

“Don’t say that. He’s still your Papa. He loves you he’s just always been a flake.”

Noah squeezed him tighter. “I hate him so much right now.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true.”

“I know, but it won’t be.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, bud, how you feeling?”

Noah was lying on his bed pondering his future options, but mostly feeling sorry for himself. Lord knew he had witnessed plenty of his Dad’s breakdowns to know how to do one properly. When Tom knocked on his door he rolled over to face him, rubbing his hand over his stomach. 

“I wish I was old enough to go to the pub and get ratted.”

“You do his voice so well.” Tom said his voice soft and sentimental. Noah noticed how tired he looked, how tired he had looked since all this shit went down. It couldn’t be easy being the linchpin on the Titanic. “I was thinking we could go to the park, maybe get some ice cream, like we used to. I know you’re too cool to be seen with your Dad, but I’d love it if you’d make an exception.” 

“Forget about cool, I’d be a fool to turn down free ice cream.” Noah smiled up at him, Tom’s face softening at the response. Noah sat up on his bed and reached for his shoes. “Give me five minutes.” 

When they got to the park Noah had practically inhaled his ice cream. Being a teenage boy and emotional was a deadly mix when it came to calorie counts. His Dad took a much more reasonable time, even offered to get Noah a second one. He considered and then politely declined.

They strolled through the park, Noah still looking like death with his pale face and dark circles under his puffy eyes. His traitorous blue eyes, Papa’s eyes, he couldn’t even look in the mirror without feeling nauseated. It had been over two weeks with no word. Dad told him this was normal that in the past he had made up the updates he’d given to Noah so he wouldn’t worry. 

“I don’t know how you do this.” Noah blurted out, interrupting whatever his Dad had been talking about. “I just keep picturing him either bleeding in some alley or in some luxury European hotel with that douche bag.” 

Tom snorted at the name and wrapped his arm around Noah’s shoulders, pulling him close. “It’s not easy, ice cream helps.” 

“How are you not fat by now?”

“I run in the mornings before you get up.” 

“Do you listen to The Smiths when you run?” 

Tom chuckled, messing his hair. “You’d be surprised how Zen it makes you feel. Endorphins mixed with depressing music, it’s magical my son.” 

“You’re hopeless, Dad.” Noah teased as they approached his Dad’s favorite bench with the perfect view of the Los Angeles skyline. “Shall we sit for a bit?” 

“Love to rest a while, crocodile.” 

“Have a chat, old bat?”

“Don’t make me kick your ass, sassafras.” Tom cuffed him on the back of the head. Noah cackled as he sat down, Tom joining him. “I used to do that with Patrick, he’s so good at wit and rhymes—must be an English thing. You’re a lot like him in that way.” 

“I don’t want to be like him anymore.” 

“He’s not all bad, Noah, you just need—”

“I want to go to Europe.”

Tom tried to blink away his shock “…What?”

Noah took a deep breath and turned to face his Dad. “I want to go to Europe, well, Italy, just for the summer, maybe a little longer.”

“Why? You’ve got college in the fall.”

“I need to get away. I need to figure out who I am. I can’t do that here. Everything is so cluttered with memories and feelings. I need to breathe.” 

“Why Italy?” 

“You’re an architect and you have to ask me why Italy?” Noah quirked an eyebrow at him, dubious, Tom laughed and held up his hand.

“Okay, fair enough, but what about school?”

“Can’t I defer or something? I don’t even know if I want to go there anymore.” He looked down at the bench, picking at the chipping paint. He hated the idea of leaving his Dad all alone in his emotional state, but he was suffocating under the weight of it all. “Please?”

Tom must have sensed his desperation because all he did was kiss him on the forehead. “Okay, bud. If this is what you really want I’ll help you out. I’m going to miss you like crazy though.”  
Noah beamed and flung at him, squeezing him tight. “Thanks, Dad.”

*~*~*~*~*

Italy was better than he could have ever dreamed. He stayed in hostels despite his Dad trying to spring for real hotels. He wanted to be in the dirt, in reality, not another illusion. At first he did the same touristy things everyone did. Rome was amazing. Everything was so big it made him feel blessedly small. That was what he wanted, to be dwarfed by the real world so he could see how insignificant his problems were.  
By the time he got to Venice he was much more relaxed. It didn’t matter if he saw everything as long as he enjoyed what he was doing in the present moment. He ate more pasta than he ever thought possible and spent hours wandering down the cobblestones until his back and feet screamed for relief. It was during such a break at a café that he met Elena.

He was reading his guide book and sipping coffee when a woman rushed up to him. She sat down across from him and started speaking Italian in a hushed voice. Noah stared wide eyed when she paused, he guessed, waiting for his response. 

“Oh, um, _I don’t speak Italian_ ,” he managed to sputter out. She rolled her eyes and smirked at him. 

“Of course you don’t. American, yes?”

Noah nodded hopelessly, “Yes I am, I’m sorry.” 

“Pretend you’re my lover and I’ll forgive you.”

“You’re _what_?!” He sputtered, “I don’t even know you!”

“I’m Elena, lovely to meet you…”

“Noah.”

“Oh, no, I’m calling you Paolo.” 

Before he could argue a rather suave looking Italian gentleman walked up to them. He was every stereotype in one man. A tight white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off his manly chest hairs that covered his perfectly tanned skin. His hair was dark and perfect and he walked with the confidence that comes from a man that’s satisfied women on every continent. 

“Oh, Michele, I didn’t even see you there. Paolo and I were just grabbing some lunch, weren’t we mi amour?” 

Noah looked up at Michele, his face paling a little. Elena was giving him the stink eye though so he swallowed his fear and sat up, slipping into his impersonation of Eames. “Yes, we were, my darling.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Isn’t she just stunning? To think she just wakes up and falls out of bed like that.”

“Paolo, you’ll make me blush.” Elena pretended to blush, winking at him. Michele did not appear to enjoy this. He spoke to Elena in Italian again, the discussion becoming quite heated until he threw his hands up and stormed off. Elena flipped him off and then turned back to Noah. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Well, I think he’s a prat as well.”

“You’re English?” Her forehead crinkled up in confusion at the sudden change. Noah smirked to himself. Put in a stressful situation he had reverted right back to idolizing his Papa. He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. 

“I’m half, my Papa’s English, my Dad’s American.” 

“Ah, beautiful, you must be more cultured this way, no?” 

Noah shrugged and looked down at the table. “I don’t know about that. This is my first time out of the states.”

“Why don’t you look at me?”

“What?”

“I’m a beautiful woman and I’m speaking to you. You should be making eye contact and offering to buy me lunch.” She smiled at him, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth. She had to be older than him, at least twenty one. He found himself wanting to run his fingers through her hair to find out if it was as soft as it looked. Instead he shrugged and forced himself to look at her.

“Just shy I guess.”

“Ah, and what has that got you?”

“…Nothing?”

“Exactly, now signal the waiter you want two menus.” 

Noah couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face and he slipped back into his English. “What if I’m not hungry?”

She noticed the change in confidence, but said nothing about it. Instead she waved her arm delicately and leaned in closer. “If you can’t swallow a few bites to have more time with me than you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

“You think I’m a fool?” 

“You’re wearing khaki shorts and a paisley shirt while reading a guide book.”

“So?”

“So if you weren’t so handsome I’d rip you off.”

Noah swallowed hard, staring back at her. “Um… okay.”

“Signal the waiter, my little Paolo. I’m going to teach you many things.” Noah looked around for the camera crew. She laughed at his behavior. “What are you doing?”

“This can’t really be happening.”

“Believe me, it is.” She winked at him, his cheeks burning even has he lifted his hand to get the waiter’s attention.

*~*~*~*~*

They spent the rest of the day together, talking and laughing. Elena showed him the parts of Venice most of the tourists didn’t get to see. By dinner time Elena clung to his arm as they walked. Elena was a touchy feely sort, something Noah wasn’t used to. He found out through much coaxing that she was twenty eight. When he confessed to be only eighteen her eyes had brightened with something he couldn’t identify.

“Take me to dinner.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“You’re the man, you pick.”

“But you’re the local.”

“Yes, so you better impress me.” 

He had panicked, picking the first restaurant they came upon. Fortunately it ended up being a great place, though more expensive than Noah would have liked. He wasn’t about to admit that though. After they placed their orders Elena leaned on the table scrutinizing him.

“Why do you do it?” 

“Do what?”

“When you speak British you’re suave and confident, when you’re American you’re a fool. Which one is really you?”

Noah took a long sip from his wine then worried his lip. “I don’t know, both I guess.”

“If you’re both than you need to find a better way of blending them. Right now you’re like two people living in one. How can you be a man when you can’t even commit to one thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is this the only phrase you know?” 

Noah blushed again looking down at his hands. “No.”

“Look at me when we talk, remember? You should act as if you can’t believe my beauty.”

“I can’t.” Noah admitted almost inaudibly. Elena held up a hand to her ear. 

“I’m sorry, did the mouse say something?” Noah sighed and looked up at her. “Tell me like a man.” She paused, “In your American voice.” 

Noah worried his lip. Unsure at first, he then straightened up and shoved his shoulders back. He took her hand in his, tracing her fingers with his before looking up at her. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I can’t believe you’re giving me the pleasure of your company.”

“Very good, my Paolo. Now you sound like a man.” She slid over in the booth so she was pressed against him. She held his chin and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “You taste like one too.”

*~*~*~*~*

After dinner they were caught in the rain. Elena insisted he come back to her flat, not hearing of him sleeping in a hostel. Despite his reservations he went. They were utterly soaked by the time they got back. Elena told him to follow her to her so he did, kicking off his wet shoes by the door. She headed to her bedroom, handed him a robe and told him to put it on.

“I’ll hang your clothes to dry.” She said going to her closet. Her dress clung to her in all the right places and Noah was blatantly staring. 

He had only ever been with Candice and that had been awkward and brief given they were both virgins. They had worked into something that served their purposes, but it was nothing to write home about. His heart dropped into his stomach when Elena stripped off her dress and tossed it to the floor, followed by her panties, she didn’t have a bra. 

“Like what you see?” She asked when she caught him standing there frozen, clutching the robe tightly in his fingers. She walked up to him, not a hint of shyness. “Are you a virgin, my little Paolo?” Noah shook his head and breathed out a ‘no’ though even he had trouble hearing it. Her hand was running through his hair and his heart was racing. “But you’ve not been with many women, have you?” 

He responded the same way. She smiled and tugged the robe out of his hands, letting it fall to the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt, her soft hands sliding inside to run over his chest. She leaned in and kissed just under his ear, nipping at the lobe.

“Would you like me to teach you some secrets?” 

Noah made a noise that was some strange hybrid of a groan, a moan and a hiccup. He blushed when she laughed, but her hands never left him. Unable to speak he nodded. She pressed a kiss to his lips. Noah wanted to hold her closer but didn’t know where to put his hands. Sensing his dilemma she took his wrist in her hand and put it on her breast. Noah moaned at the feeling, Elena stifling it with more kisses. When she pulled away he followed after her until she put a hand to his chest. 

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” She smiled wide. “You’re mine tonight, little Paolo.”

*~*~*~*~*

He spent the rest of his time in Italy with Elena. She insisted he check out of the hostel and stay with her. He hadn’t argued the point at all. They made love all night and then went out all day. They did the typical romantic clichés like taking a gondola ride down the canal and shared plates of pasta in nice restaurants, and they did non-typical things like then fucking in the alley behind the restaurant. Noah almost never said no to her. She challenged him at every turn, taught him all the important words in Italian and most importantly, she forced him to chose who he was going to be. He wasn’t allowed to flip flop with her. He had to be confident all the time.

Noah thought he could continue to live this way for the rest of his life, but six months into his stay he got a phone call. 

“Hey, bud, how’s Italy treating you?” His dad sounded happy for once. Noah watched Elena as she walked from the bed to the shower, completely naked and smirked. 

“It’s treating me pretty damn good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?” 

Noah shrugged even though Tom couldn’t see him. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about it. Why is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s great, that’s why I called, papa came home.” 

Noah sat up, pulling the covers up to his chest. “Oh, really, when did that happen?”

“A couple days ago, I was going to call but, we’ve been distracted.” 

“Gross.” 

He could hear giggling on the other end and could just picture Eames standing behind his Dad, arms wrapped around him, kissing his neck. It was always the same whenever Papa came back from a long trip. The two of them were like horny teenagers doing it on every surface. As much as he didn’t care to picture his parents having coatis the affectionate bits beforehand were usually pretty adorable. He heard Papa’s voice and sneered. 

“Wow, that’s great, Dad. I’m so happy for you.” He heard some kissing noises and then rolled his eyes. Then Eames was on the phone.

“Is that you, lovely? I’ve missed you. I hear you’re in Italy—Venice if I’m not mistaken. It’s a fantastic place you must try some calamari while you’re there.” Noah couldn’t speak. He choked on his words, gurgling into the phone. “Are you there, Noah?” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” For a moment it was as if all of Elena’s work had gone down the drain with her bathwater, which reminded him she was currently naked and soapy. “I can’t talk long.”

“Are you coming home soon, I’d love to see you.”

“Where you been?”

“Oh, I got held up in Paris.”

“Did you now,” Noah sneered and picked at the sheets. “Well, I don’t know when I can get back.” He heard Eames sigh over the phone, the sadness in his voice when he spoke.

“That’s a shame, I was very keen on seeing you, it’s been quite a while.”

“Yeah, a lot’s happened. I graduated for one.”

“Yes, I’m so sorry I missed it. I really, really wanted to be there, my lovely.” 

“Uh-huh, yeah, well, you weren’t. How’s Arthur?” He sucked on his lip as he waited for the reply, eyes narrowed. There was a long pause then Eames spoke, unusually subdued.

“…He’s fine. I don’t really want to talk about that. I want to talk about you.”

“I want to talk about Arthur.”

“Noah.”

“Dad told me what you do and I’ve known about Arthur for years, just didn’t want to admit that was part of it. I wanted you around so bad I forgave everything. I used to blame Dad, but now I see you’re the asshole.” 

“Noah, I’d like to have this discussion in person. Please, come home?” There was a long pause then he spoke again with a light tremor. “We can sit for a bit?” 

Noah sniffled at the phrase, rubbing at his eyes. “Can’t sorry, I’m busy.”

“Please, Noah, I’d love to see you.”

“Mm, how’s it feel?” 

He hung up before Eames could reply. Sitting there in shock, he could feel himself cracking. It started off as hiccups then his eyes started burning and his lungs closed up on him. By the time Elena got out of the shower he was full out crying. 

“My sweet, sweet Paolo, what’s happened?” She cupped his face and kissed his tear tracks. 

“I hate him!” He sobbed, “He’s not how he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be my hero and he’s a fraud.” He clung to her, burying his face in her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my Paolo. We’ll chase those demons away together.”

*~*~*~*~*

He spent another three months with Elena. A part of him admitted it was because he was hoping Eames would be gone again by the time he got back. If he was to be honest with himself he liked the fact that now it was Papa pinning for his return instead of the other way around.

He also just plain loved Italy and didn’t want to leave. His skin had darkened and Elena had helped him pick out an entirely new wardrobe. He loved the new look and his Italian was to the point that they could have small conversations. Venice wasn’t perfect, the stench of the canals on hot days could be nearly unbearable, but he still liked it better than Los Angeles. There were no problems here. It was just him. Plus, Elena wasn’t in Los Angeles and he was loathed to part with her. 

“When are you going home, my little Paolo?” Elena asked one evening after dinner as they strolled down the cobblestones. 

“You want me to leave?” He could already feel his chest constricting at the thought she’d only been humoring him all these months. She stopped so she was in front of him, radiating warmth and affection.

“Of course not, my love, but it’s time you fly on your own. I can’t keep you to myself forever. I’ve taught you well, now I must release you.” 

“But I don’t want to go anywhere. I love you.”

“And I love you too, but I still must let you go.” She wiped at her eyes and kissed him. “You’ve only just begun your journey. I want you to do what you were meant to do. Now that you have your confidence you can. You need to go back and set things right.”

“What are you, some kind of fortuneteller?” He snorted, running his thumb over her lip. She winked at him. 

“Maybe I am.”

“Do you do this to all the American backpackers?” 

“They’re not all American.” She answered kissing him again. Noah moaned into her mouth, running his hands over her back. 

“I’m going to miss you.” He swayed them slowly, resting their foreheads together. “Can I call you?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, my Paolo.” 

He hummed in his throat and nodded. “Kills the fantasy, right? Sometimes I think I’m going to wake up to find you were just a dream.”

Elena smiled at him, kissing him sweetly, “Time for you to wake up, my Noah.”

*~*~*~*~*

Noah sighed as the plane touched down at LAX, he was back to reality. Elena had been a pleasant escape but now he had to be a man and deal with the rest of his life. He hadn’t called ahead to let his dads know he was coming. If Eames had already left he didn’t want him rushing back.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the house was that Tom must have gone stir crazy being all alone and decided to redecorate. The foyer had different tiles and paint and the living room had been rearranged. He wandered into the kitchen where he found all of his postcards stuck to the fridge with magnets and, as expected, brand new plates in the cabinets. It was nice to know that some things never changed. 

He was admiring the postcards when he heard footsteps followed by a gasp. He turned around to see his Dad, in just a robe, hair a little messed. He snorted in amusement guessing as to what he interrupted. Tom smiled from ear to ear and rushed up to hug him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you coming home? I would have picked you up, this is such a nice surprise, when did you get in?” He pulled back to look at Noah, “You look so different—love the clothes, very chic.”   
Noah laughed. “That’s all there is in Italy.”

“Did you have fun? How’s your Italian?” Tom made a face, inspecting Noah playfully. 

“ _It’s pretty good. Want to know who taught me?_ ” Noah answered, smirking at the blank expression he received. 

“I’ve no idea what you just said, but it sounded cool.” Tom said, rubbing Noah’s shoulders and smiling. “Did you find what you were looking for?” He couldn’t stop touching Noah, running his hands through his hair or along his clothes. 

“I think I did. I could have stayed there forever, but I had to come back to reality.”

“God, I missed having you around.” He hugged Noah again, kissing his forehead. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come back, not that I would’ve minded being _forced_ to go to Italy to see you.” 

“I might go back eventually, but for now Los Angeles isn’t so bad. Can I stay here until I find a place?”

“You don’t have to move out, stay with us. Save your money for school or a house.”

“Pop’s still here?”

“He’s out, we needed more, um—he’s at the store.” Noah gave him a knowing look and Tom rushed over it. “He retired. He said he’d had enough after this last one so we’ve been celebrating,” he suddenly realized his state of undress and pulled his robe around him tighter, laughing nervously. “Well, you know.” 

Noah tried not to laugh as he looked at him, nodding. “Mm, yeah, I can fill in the blanks.”

“It’s like when we were dating, I haven’t been this happy in years. It’s so great to know he’s not leaving anymore.”

“So he’s done with everything.” Noah asked, running his fingers along the counter. “ _Everything_?” 

Tom frowned, looking away. “Yes, he says it’s over.”

“And you believe him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It was just physical, it didn’t mean anything. I’m the one he loves. I’m not going to overanalyze things, I’m happy.”

Noah nodded his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You know, when I was a kid Pop was like the sun to me. I was so desperate to be in his presence I didn’t give a shit what he did. I adored him.”

“He’s a force of nature.” Tom agreed, smiling. “I was powerless against it.”

“Yeah, but what I didn’t realize until I went away was that you were the gardener. You did all the work and got none of the credit, at least not from the ungrateful little weed.” He tapped his knuckles against the counter, staring at the clock on the far wall. He forced himself to make eye contact, lesson learned. “I’m sorry I was such a terror. You were an amazing Dad and I didn’t see.” 

He was met with a teary expression. Tom pulled him into another hug. “Aw, bud, I think that’s the best thing you could have ever said to me.” 

“It’s true. I’m so sorry.” 

“I couldn’t ask for a better kid, are you kidding me? You’re worst flaw was mood swings. You never destroyed the house, crashed your car or knocked anyone up. You were great.” 

“Too much of a loner to pull any of that off.” Noah laughed, rubbing at his eyes. Tom couldn’t stop smiling or hugging him and though he protested, it felt good after so many months away. 

“I’m so proud of you, bud. You really grew up over there.”

The sound of the front door opening caught their attention causing Tom to light up and Noah to frown. He could hear Eames’s fumbled movements, his heavy footsteps and the crinkle of the paper bag that held whatever it was he purchased. He dropped his keys in the basket and headed for the kitchen.

“I’ve returned, darling, fully stocked and ready for more.” He stopped dead when he saw Noah and Tom standing side by side. His breath hitched in his throat, Noah felt his eyes burning. “Lovely, I didn’t know you were back.”

Noah couldn’t speak at first, silently judging his papa from afar. “I just got back.”

Eames wet his lips and suppressed a smile taking in Noah’s appearance. “Look at you, you’re so different.” He hovered by the island in the kitchen, focus intent on Noah. “It’s so good to see you.”  
“I’m only staying until I can find an apartment.” Noah said, straightening his posture.

“Oh, of course,” Eames nodded, looking him up and down. “Fabulous clothes. _Did you pick up much Italian on your journeys?_ ” 

Noah narrowed his eyes, his lip curling. “I’ll be in my room.” 

“Give us a hug first? It’s been so long.” Eames tossed the bag on the counter and wrapped his arms around him. Noah kept his arms at his sides, jaw tightly clenched. To his credit, Eames didn’t force him to hold it long. He let go with a sigh. “You look good.”

“I’m tired.” Noah said, not making eye contact. Eames rubbed his temple and nodded.

“Of course, it’s such a long flight.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Let’s go out for dinner, as a family, we haven’t done that in forever. You up to it, bud?” Tom suggested, looking between them. “Go take a nap and when you wake up we’ll go. It’ll be fun, like old times.” 

“If that’s what you want, Dad, sure.” Noah smiled at him, picking up his suitcase before heading for the stairs. He ignored Eames as he passed, not so much as a glance. Eames watched him go. Noah heard the tail end of their conversation as he left.

“He used to worship me.”

“He will again.”

*~*~*~*~*

A few days later Noah was eating breakfast out on the patio when Eames found him. They had successfully avoided each other since the awkward family dinner. Noah didn’t look up from his book when Eames joined him.

“ _What are you reading?_ ” Eames asked in Italian. Noah didn’t bother to respond. Eames sighed and rubbed his face. “Please speak to me, Noah.” 

“The title’s on the front.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Then why’d you ask?” Noah spared him a glance and then continued reading. Eames sat down and picked at his food. 

“Why don’t you get a Kindle? They’re so much more convenient for travel.” 

“I like books.” Noah answered, nose still buried in the pages. Eames smiled to himself, fidgeting in his seat. 

“Old fashioned just like your Dad.”

“Yeah, I was once told I’d be a great person if I was only half the man he is.”

“It’s true.” Eames nodded, rubbing at his temple. “One of his most admirable qualities is his ability to forgive.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I’m only half the man he is.” Noah said over the mouthful of toast. Eames frowned and sipped his coffee, eyeing Noah the entire time.

“Can we have lunch?”

“I haven’t even finished my breakfast yet.” 

Eames rolled his eyes, staring at Noah. “You know what I meant.” 

“I don’t think we’ve anything to discuss.”

“Oh, I think we’ve plenty to discuss, lovely.” Eames said, taking another sip of his coffee. He stared Noah down, his son clearly not agreeing with him. “Indulge me, please?” 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then you’ll get a free lunch out of the deal, and I’ve plenty to say to you so you won’t be bored.” 

“I want to go to The Ivy.” 

“The _Ivy_?” Eames muttered, clenching his teeth. Noah looked up coyly. 

“Their crab cakes are amazing I hear.”

“Cheeky little bastard.”

“I’ve your DNA don’t I?” 

Eames groaned in his throat, trying not to smirk. Instead he bowed his head at Noah and nodded. “You’re right, only the best for you, lovely.” 

“Make the reservation for one.” 

“Will do, your highness.”

*~*~*~*~*

“This isn’t The Ivy.” Noah said as they pulled into the parking lot. “Olive Garden?” He turned to Eames and scoffed. Eames made a face as he parked, a slight blush appearing through his stubble. Only when he wasn’t working did he let it grow. Noah used to measure his anxiety by the length of Papa’s stubble. Once it was gone he panicked because he knew it meant Papa was leaving again.

“Yes, well, as you know by now I’m not really an actor. I couldn’t get a reservation.”

“You couldn’t pull some strings, international criminal and forger extraordinaire?” Noah goaded, he was nearly snarling without even realizing it. Eames offered him a smug smile and narrowed eyes.

“I’m not pulling strings and risking our lives for crab cakes, lovely. You’ll just have to suffer.”

“Why’d you insist we dress nice? This place lets in anyone.”

“Because gentlemen are always well dressed,” Eames went to open his door. Noah didn’t budge, glaring. 

“I’ve just come back from Italy, you think this place is going to impress? I liked it when I was twelve and didn’t know better.”

He watched Eames squirm, enjoying the discomfort he was causing. It was so rare to see Papa uncomfortable. He quite enjoyed being the cause of it for once. Now he could know what it felt like to be uncomfortable in your own skin, to not measure up. Eames turned to him again, rubbing at his temple, his tell, he was struggling.

“I thought we could bond over our mutual distaste and feel superior to our fellow dinners as we compare it to the real thing.” He said forcing a smile. Noah opened his mouth to say something else smart but Eames cut him off, smacking his hand against the steering wheel. “God damn it, Noah! You agreed to have lunch with me so we could talk now just get out of the bloody car and eat some sodding pasta!” 

Noah blinked a few times unsure of how to proceed. Papa had never yelled at him. Dad was always the disciplinarian, he had to be. He watched as Eames’s face slowly softened to regret and he reached out. Noah flinched away, opening his door and getting out. 

“Oh, Noah, I’m sorry.” Eames hurried to get out thinking Noah would be storming off, but instead he was standing by the car waiting. “…Oh.” Eames let out a little laugh and shrugged comically. “I thought for sure I’d have to chase you down the street.”

“It’s not completely off the table.” Noah said, grinning. Eames wasn’t sure he should return it or not. Apparently on his travels Noah had developed a poker face. He scoffed in laughter.

“You need to come play cards with me and the lads. Whatever I lose you’ll make back in spades.” 

Noah kept up his mask. “Come on, I’m starving for greasy, runny alfredo sauce.” 

They got seated towards the back in hopes of avoiding any screaming children and to have a false sense of privacy. Noah insisted they drink white wine just because he knew Eames preferred red. They looked over their menus, Noah reading everything five times and still not remembering it. He didn’t care. It was all crap and once Eames started talking he knew he’d be too upset to eat anyway. 

It turned out to be more difficult than either of them thought. Eames had attempted to start the conversation when the waiter returned with their drinks, again when the salad and breadsticks came and yet again when their waiter returned to see if they had decided on anything yet. Eames ground his teeth and slipped the waiter a twenty just to give them some time. Noah scoffed and went back to his menu. 

“So,” Eames took a sip of his wine and cleared his throat. “Go on, I know you’ve got questions.”

Noah shrugged and shook his head, “Nope.” 

“Don’t play games, lovely.” 

“I’m not, I’m really hungry.” He kept his menu in front of his face. Eames exhaled through his nose and took the menu away. “Hey!”

“I’ll give _you_ a twenty if you can tell me one item on this menu you’re so intently studying.”

“Chicken Parmesan.” 

“Doesn’t count.”

“You said one item.”

“Something special only the delightful folks at Olive Garden lovingly prepare for us, darling.” 

“Bread sticks.” 

Eames shook his head and handed back the menu. “You get nothing.” 

“That’s not new coming from you.”

“Ah!” Eames pointed at him, smirking. “See, now there’s the passive aggressive resentment I was looking for. Do continue.”

“This isn’t a game to me, okay? I don’t find it funny. You’re the one that wanted to talk, so talk.” 

Eames dropped his act, clearing his throat again. He looked much more vulnerable this way. “I did—I do.” He fiddled with the corner of the menu, looking up at the ceiling first and then at Noah. “It’s not as if I knew I would become a father when I started up in this business. I didn’t know I’d fall in love and get married. I never thought much for the domestic life. When I started I was young and selfish and escaping my parents. I… It wasn’t something I planned, I just excelled at it.”

“Sorry for being so inconvenient.” 

“Don’t say that, you’re the best part of my life—the best thing I ever did.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?” Noah hissed, catching himself and then looking around. “You know, if you loved me so damn much.”

“I don’t know. Tom never made demands on me, well, that’s not entirely true, but he always gave in. Then we decided to have you and I stopped working.” He laughed at the memory, “Tom was positively precious setting up the nursery for you. He couldn’t wait to get home from the office so he could drag me to store after store, picking out things and he went to every appointment with the surrogate.”

“And you?”

“I was excited, but not nearly as much. It wasn’t until you were born that I was hooked.”

“Really?” Noah hadn’t looked at him once, picking at a spot on the table. Eames laughed. 

“Yes, you were just so little and red faced with this huge mop of black hair jutting out. You’d been fussing until I held you. You started sucking on my pinky and that was it. I know you don’t remember any of it, but I was there at the beginning. I _was_.” He nodded to himself. “I went to all the appointments and watched you roll over for the first time and take your first steps and say your first words. We spent hours together while Tom worked.” He rubbed at his eyes and took a sip of wine. “It wasn’t until you started school that I started working again.”

“What made you start working again?” 

Eames smiled to himself, “We needed more money. You were growing so fast, I knew what I’d put away wouldn’t last to put you through university or provide the life I wanted you to have. Then a job came up that was just too good to pass up.”

“Really?” Noah’s lip curled and he glared. 

“Yes, it was unheard of at the time—thought to be impossible. The pay off was,” he laughed, “beyond ridiculous. I couldn’t pass it up. It would keep us flush for a considerable amount of time.” He bowed his head. “And I admit I was feeling a little weary of the domestic life and anxious to get back into the field.” He didn’t look at Noah as he said it. “No one thought we would pull it off, but we did. After that I was more in demand than ever and it was… nice, to be just myself for a bit. Not a husband or a father, just Eames, mysterious and dangerous.” He shook his head. “I know that’s not the explanation you want to hear, but it’s the truth. I owe you that at least.”

Noah kept silent, thinking of his time in Venice. He banished the thoughts, shaking his head. He didn’t want to sympathize. There was a difference between them and he would prove it. Papa was wrong. He was an asshole and he needed to be made to feel like one. A terrible thought crept into his mind then and he couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“Have you ever killed anyone?” 

“More in the dream than reality.”

“But you have killed.” Noah said, staring intently, “Real people?”

Eames paused a long moment, wetting his lips and fidgeting. Noah was starting to think he wouldn’t answer. “Yes, I’ve killed real people.” He said it so quiet Noah almost missed it. He felt his throat close up on him again and downed his wine glass. He gasped for breath, wiping his mouth. 

“And Arthur?” 

Eames tapped his fingers against the table then downed his glass of wine as well before reaching for the bottle to refill both their glasses. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“No.” Noah answered honestly, taking another long sip. “But I have to.”

“He was an old flame. I was in dream share a long time and it’s not a big field. There’s a lot of adrenaline that goes into it, a lot of build up.”

“Okay, I get it!” Noah held up his hand. “Why the fuck did you ask Dad out then?”

“Because what Arthur and I had wasn’t anything serious, it never was. He has his life and I have mine. It’s how’s it’s always been—what works best for us. We tried dating once, way, way back, it went belly up in less than a month so we went back to the old arrangement. I didn’t know I’d end up marrying Tom.” He rolled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, staring down at it.

“I guess he gave me what Arthur couldn’t. He’s approachable, flawed—bloody goofy at times.” Eames laughed affectionately. “You’d never catch Arthur singing karaoke with his shirtsleeves rolled up and hair out of place.” He shrugged sadly. “Arthur’s a puma, Tom’s a housecat. You might love both but you can only take one home.” 

“But you can still make trips to the zoo.” Noah scoffed. He had finished half his glass listening. “Were you ever faithful to Dad?” 

“Yes! I was incredibly faithful—I went furniture shopping and met his bloody parents and picked out wallpaper and had a baby with him. It meant something to me, when I asked him to marry me, I _meant_ it. Once it got serious with Tom I stopped.” 

Noah cringed, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall. “Why’d you start again?”

“I told you.” Eames said, his voice wobbling. “I couldn’t pass up that job, we needed the money, Arthur was there, it was a very close call—we just…” he rubbed at his scruff. “It just happened.”

“Did you tell Dad?” Noah was looking at him intently, both of them rheumy eyed and emotional. Eames shook his head. “How did it become a regular thing again?”

Eames rubbed at his eyes, sitting up and leaning forward. “Look, I’ve never been good at being alone, all right? I can’t do it. I tried. I was never going to divorce Tom and run off with Arthur he was just filler until I could get home.” 

“How romantic.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was making the best of a shitty situation. We were both stuck, trapped half a world away from our real lives it was almost like we were still dreaming. I got carried away with it—I wanted to get carried away with it. Arthur was in the same boat. I’m sure he’s another life without me. He didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.”

“Kills the fantasy, doesn’t it?” Noah asked, on the verge of tears. He thought of Elena and what they’d shared. “No attachments, no demands, just pleasure. How very glamorous, I can see now I never had a chance to compete.”

“I never forgot you, Noah. I never intended to miss out on important things.”

“But you did.” Noah pointed out. “I needed you there and you weren’t there. Do you know what that feels like?”

Eames swallowed and smiled at him. “Yes, I do. I never meant for you to feel that way. I never meant any of this rubbish to happen.”

“Do you know what it was like living with Dad when you were gone? What you did to him?” 

Eames let out a shaky breath and bowed his head. “As I said, I’m not proud of it.”

“I had one absentee parent and a basket case.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I was just a kid.”

“I know.”

“I wanted so much to be like you.” Noah admitted, scoffing at the idea. “You were so suave and cool and you always knew what to say. I hated Dad. I thought it was his fault you left. I thought he was just too boring to make you stay. I blamed him.”

“It was never his fault.”

“I know that now.” Noah said, drinking more wine. “I used to sneak downstairs and watch you two.” 

Eames bulked, sitting back. “What do you mean?”

“Late at night—or what felt late back then—I’d sneak downstairs and I’d see you two, swaying by the tree or cuddling on the couch. I wanted that so much—I mean—with a woman, but yeah, you two could look so perfect for each other and then the next morning I’d find you two arguing over work or Arthur.” He finished his wine in one big gulp. “I almost got into a fight in Italy and the first thing I did was slip into your accent and think ‘what would papa do?’” He scoffed to himself, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “I am your son. I met someone in Venice, had an affair, I wanted no attachments. I picked being with her over coming home and facing you.” 

“But you did come home. You faced me like a man.”

“No I didn’t. I’m drunk right now.” He giggled to himself. “Two stupid glasses and I am _drunk_.” 

Eames tried not to laugh at him, but he was also tipsy and failed. “You just need to eat something, you’ll be fine.” He looked at Noah, face resting in his hand. “You really have grown up.”

“Stop.” Noah said, picking apart a bread stick, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“But you have. I can sense it, you’re calmer, there’s less movement, more confidence. You’re a man, my lovely. I’m very proud.” 

Noah melted at the words, his eyes shimmering. He sucked on his lip to keep from crying, nodding instead. Eames rubbed his chin, in a similar state. The silence was too much and he jerked into motion, pulling at his cufflinks. His fingers lacked their usual grace as he tried to get them off. Maybe it was the wine maybe it was the moment. Noah knit his forehead in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Every man should have a proper set of cufflinks.” He took Noah by the wrist and plopped them in his hand. “You’re a man now, you should have them.”

“But these are your favorite.” He stared dumbly as Eames fiddled with the cheap ones on his blazer and replaced them with his expensive ones.

“They were your grandfathers, then they were mine and now they’re yours.” He smiled when he finished. “Someday, fate willing, they’ll be your son’s.” 

Noah didn’t know what to say, staring down at them and then back up at Eames. “…Pop,” he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Eames patted his hands and leaned back.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” He held up his hand to signal for the waiter. Noah grunted in amusement, swiped the heel of his palm over his eyes and smiled.

*~*~*~*~*

A few weeks later Noah offered to cook them all an authentic Italian dinner. Elena had been very thorough in her education, grooming him in all aspects of adulthood. Of course some lessons were definitely more fun than others.

“This looks amazing, how’d you learn to do this?” Tom marveled serving Eames first and then himself.

“I had a very good teacher.” Noah said, grinning ear to ear. Eames snorted at him, thanking Tom for his plate with a kiss. 

“What’s the occasion?” 

“I’ve decided.” Noah announced as he took his seat. Both his dads waited for the other half of the sentence, but it didn’t come. Noah tucked into his food, pleased with himself when it tasted just like Elena’s.

“Decided what, lovely?” Eames prompted. Noah looked up from his plate, still smiling. 

“I’m going to study law. I want to be a lawyer.” Noah didn’t flinch when Tom’s silverware clinked against the plate and he turned to look at Eames. Eames however hadn’t flinched, not one inch. He held Noah’s gaze, his smile slowly growing. Slowly he reached for his wine glass and lifted it up. 

“Cheers, lovely. That’s wonderful.” 

The tension flew out of the room, Tom putting a hand to his chest. “You two will be the death of me I swear.” He raised his glass as well, the three of them toasting. “Thank god you’re retired, babe.” 

Eames smiled and leaned in to kiss his temple, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Tom’s neck. “Sick of me yet, my darling?” he whispered in his ear, though this time Noah heard him.

Tom turned to him, linking their fingers and smiling slowly, “Never.” 

His parents, two dreamers caught in a riptide with only each other to cling to. When they were good they were so good, when they were bad, they destroyed everything in their path. They weren’t ideal, but they were his. He was the culmination of both their efforts, charming and well versed, loyal and responsible, the best of both of them. From them he’d learned that where there’s love, there’s still hope. 

“God, get a room.” Noah rolled his eyes and pretended to be disgusted. “When I’m a lawyer I’m slapping both of you with public indecency charges.” 

“That reminds me, lovely. We were both discussing how we think you should be paying rent.” 

Noah balled up his napkin and chucked it at him resulting in a battle that was quickly squashed by Tom. “I’m confused do I have one son or two, because you’re acting like a giant child.” He started giggling as Eames pulled him in for kisses, shaking his head at Tom’s complaining. “Don’t try to butter me up, you limey bastard. We need manners.”

“I love you too, darling.” 

All his life Noah William Eames had wanted to be like his Papa, the actor, the charmer, the sunshine—the illusion. In reality his father was Patrick Francis Eames, international criminal and forger, a cheating husband, a dreamer not fond of the domestic life. He was a man not a myth. 

It had taken Noah a long time but he’d finally made his peace with the reality of his family. Just because Santa Claus wasn’t real didn’t mean he’d stopped enjoying Christmas. He knew his father as a flesh and blood man with flaws and personal demons, a man with a husband and son that loved him very much. 

Myth married to reality. 

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> There it is, not perfect but it never will be. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you wish: http://lost-marbles-all-over-the-place.tumblr.com/
> 
> Anyway, the prompt/meme is here: http://lost-marbles-all-over-the-place.tumblr.com/post/56750101753/if-they-had-a-kid-eames-tom-hansen-name (I only include because it's got a face shot of how I picture him, at least as a kid)


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